


household chores

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: Domestic bliss, circa season one.





	household chores

  
There was a muscle ticking in the corner of Chidi’s mouth, and the imminent threat of a stomach-ache to come. All the same, he did his best to keep an even voice. Eleanor had a shark-like ability to smell weakness, and, as she had told him more than once, he reeked.

“You know, Kant once said ‘Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life.’”

Eleanor blew her bangs. They fell unerringly over her eyes again. The expression on her face made one suppose that she had considered lifting her hand and brushing them off, but found that to be too much hassle.

Instead, she cuddled her pillow closer and hummed, much like a spoiled, self-satisfied feline, or a cellphone after reaching optimal battery.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Sure am, Teach. Kant, science is cool, wisdom is cooler, organization rocks, yay. Wow, Chidi. I have to say, this is a new low. Are you really trying to Kant your way out of making the bed?”

The stomach-ache intensified. Chidi wondered miserably whether there was a glitch in the Good Place for him to still have a stomach-achd. Maybe it was Eleanor’s fault. Most things were, lately.

“For the last time, I’m literally the only one who has made the bed ever, in the history of our fake relationship, and also of our entire afterlife. The least you could do is get off the bed and let me do it for you.”

Eleanor snorted artlessly and offensively, like she did just about everything else.

“Don’t snort at me. You don’t get to snort a me. You sang the worst rendition of Queen’s ‘Bohemiam Raphsody’ a human being has ever, ever produced, until I brought you breakfast in bed. And then, because you refused to get out of your ash and get your own lunch - which by the way I cooked - you sang Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ and swapped the lyrics with fart noises. You _know_ how much I love Leonard Cohen.”

Eleanor pulled the covers over her head and made one more fart noise.

“Eleanor. Get. Off. The Bed.”

“Nope. Sorry, not happening. I’m comfy and warm and you can’t make me, so there.”

Because he was a reasonable man, Chidi put the bed clothes on the bedside table before snatching Eleanor’s arm off the pillow and pulling.

She yelled and grasped the edge of the bed. When that slid from her range, she grabbed the sheets, kicking wildly. Chidi failed to dodge a hit to the shoulder.

“Let go!”

“Get off!”

“Let go!”

“Fork off!”

“ _You_ fork off!”

“For—“

There was a ripping noise, a moment which the laws of physics used to yawn and grumble, and Chidi fell backwards, butt-first in the hardwood floor. Eleanor followed, butt-first in Chidi’s face. The covers fell on top of her, along with the blankets, two pillows decorated with faces of clowns, and an orphaned sock smelling faintly and mysteriously of pineapple.

“Ugh,” Eleanor said.

“Ugh,” Chidi agreed. Then, “Get off!”

“Not this again,” Eleanor grumbling. She reconsidered her position. On the one hand, sitting on Chidi was a fun way to assert her superiority, even if this wasn't how she’d thought sitting on his face would come about - _Ew Ew Ew what the hell Eleanor?_ Seriously, what was wrong with her? Though, it wasn’t _that_ bad of a mental image ... - but on the other hand, good people probably didn’t try to assert their superiority over others.

Being good was such a drag.

She rolled off to the floor.

“ _Thank_ you,” Chidi said after he’d regained his breath. It was kind of impressive how much condensed passive aggressiveness he could pull off with two words. “Now, will you finally, finally get up?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

A shiver wracking up his spine, Chidi tried to get up. It was Eleanor’s turn to grasp wildly.

There followed a brief scuffle. Pillows flew, along with insults, fists and one foul-smelling sock. Eleanor had a raspberry blown into her belly, and responded by putting him under a steel-tight noogie. Chidi, pushed by the circumstances and a burning need to regain his dignity, tried to tickle her. And tried again. 

“Oh, come on!” 

Eleanor’s face was perfectly still except for the viscous light in her eyes. It was a little terrifying. 

“Joke’s on you, Teach, ‘cause this gal bows down to no stupid reflexes.”

“How is it that you are not ticklish? It’s scientifically impossible. Have you been tested for deficient nerve endings?”

“Whoose nerve endings are you insulting? Uh? Uh? Don’t you dare crawl away from me!”

Eventually, when the dust settled they were both tangled into a mess of sheets and awkward limbs. Chidi’s elbow was uncomfortably close to Eleanor’s neck. Her hand was still gripping his arm. They both ruthlessly ignored this fact with a small level of sucecess. 

Chidi gave one last wiggle of his fingers against her side and gave up, leaning back on a ripped pillow with a groan.

“The bed is going to be a nightmare now,” Chidi mourned, snatching a blanket before greedy, greedy Eleanor could steal it. She already had three already, one serving as a mattress between her body and the floor.

“Poor tiny Chidi. Mean Eleanor wants to have a lazy morning in. Oh, the horror.”

“It’s three in the afternoon.” He checked his wristwatch. “No, it’s three and forty six in the afternoon.”

“Morning, afternoon, evening. Who cares?”

“I care,” he answered, even though he didnt as much anymore. The blanket he’d claimed was really, surprisingly soft. “I had plans. I was going to review our lesson plans, read some Locke, and visit Tahani about transplanting some of her roses into our backyard. And oh yeah, make forking the bed.”

“Ugh. Boring. Settle in, loser. You’re about to participate in a time-honored Shellstrope tradition of weekend lazing off.”

One last attempt, without much motivation behind it. “It’s Tuesday.”

“And we’re dead, time is a dark void, whoopie-de-doo-doo. Dude, relax.”

Chidi sighed. Impossibly, his stomach felt better. He did feel relaxed, lying down on what had to be the most uncomfortable floor in existence with his not-soulmate wrapped around him like a strange tentacled creature and using his arm like a pillow. Her breaths were already slowing down. 

Chidi was never, ever, ever saying it out loud, but he had to admit: sleepy Eleanor was kind of sweet. In a hibernating-evil-berserk-bear way. It would be difficult to believe that she was the cause of so much stress and uncertainty when she spooned her pillow like that. If it weren’t for the one thing —

He whispered, “Eleanor?”

“Mm?”

“Your knee is digging into my back.”

Eleanor stuffed the smelly sock in his face.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://searchingforserendipity25.tumblr.com).


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